Lull
by Lady Kylandra
Summary: Vash and Wolfwood get out of the heat and proceed to have a conversation about doughnuts. And possibly more than that. Somewhat meandering, but it's supposed to be.


**Title:** Lull  
**Author:** Lady Kylandra  
**Pairing:** None really, but you could consider WxV implied.  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** Again, none really.  
**Notes:** Much thanks to Kira for the beta job. Anything that still sucks isn't her fault.  
**Summary:** Wolfwood and Vash get out of the heat and talk. About doughnuts. And maybe something else.  
**Archive:** Ask me first, but I'll probably say yes.  
**Feedback:** Will make me your ho. Okay, not really, but if you're nice you could send it along to me anyway. Constructive criticism is also eternally welcome. Come! Help me suck less!  


--- 

Wolfwood sighed, squinting up at the bright sky through his sunglasses. Vash shuffled along beside him, their feet kicking up small clouds of dust that hung for a moment before settling back to the ground. A bead of sweat trekked its way down Wolfwood's throat, a vague itch remaining behind. It was hellishly hot today, and the town had retreated, languishing indoors. 

Vash uttered a pleased sound, pointing down the street. "Look Wolfwood! They have doughnuts!" 

"Sure Tongari, whatever." At least it would get them out of the sun. Wolfwood sighed again; he needed a drink. 

Suddenly lively, like a child's doll newly wound, Vash bounded into the restaurant and slapped down the money for a dozen doughnuts. Favorite sweet obtained, the gunman wedged his lanky form at a small table and proceeded to gorge himself. Wolfwood ordered a beer and collapsed in the seat across from Vash. The beer was warm, but it eased his throat. 

Wolfwood let his head loll back against the seat, gazing around the quiet restaurant. It was a nice place. Quiet. There was a young man hunched in the corner, but he was too absorbed in his liquor to be any bother. The place was all smooth wood and warmth and grit--_damn sand like sin, works its way into everything_--and the priest relaxed, eyes wandering back to his traveling companion. Vash's coat smeared across his tall frame like blood. Wolfwood was tired. 

"Stupid." 

Vash blinked, confused. "What?" 

"You and your doughnuts." 

"Oh." Vash was quiet for a moment, gnawing on another donut. "Why?" 

"Not much of a diet for the most dangerous man on the planet. Silly children's fluff. Not very healthy, either." 

Green eyes fixed on the half-drained beer, then moved to the cigarette Wolfwood was pulling out of his pocket. 

Wolfwood glared, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He looked away as he lit the tip, tossing the charred carcass of the match onto the table between them. Dark eyes bored into bright green. "Shut up." 

Vash only smiled, sunny grin sliding perfectly into place and Wolfwood was sure he could hear the click as it locked over Vash's face. Wolfwood hated that smile. It lit the handsome face but never touched the eyes, never melted them, only left them flat and empty. 

The gunman chewed at another donut. "I wonder where the insurance girls have gotten to." 

Wolfwood shrugged, frowning. "No idea. Probably either trying to find you or filling out forms somewhere. They'll be fine. Meryl and the Big Girl can take care of themselves." 

The gunman hummed absently, eyes straying out the window. A bird screamed outside, a hawk by the sound of it. 

"It's empty," Wolfwood said flatly. 

Vash turned back to his companion. Blond eyebrows drew together. "What?" 

The priest gazed askance at the plate of doughnuts. The ash at the end of the cigarette grew, starting to dangle precariously. "The donut. And don't look confused. You changed the subject." 

Vash looked down at the table, grabbing another donut. Wide, red clad shoulders shrugged. "Empty? I guess." The gunman lifted the pastry and bit into it, closing his eyes. Wolfwood eyed the other man, watching his throat move as he swallowed. The donut bore ragged scars where Vash's teeth had torn a piece away. 

One sun browned hand reached up to catch the cigarette hanging from dry lips and Wolfwood flicked at the cylinder, watching as the column of ash broke apart and the last of the embers fell to the floor like dying stars. Deftly snagging the beer mug, the priest took another swig, eyed the legendary gunman across the table and reconsidered. Reaching up to scratch absently at thick black hair, the priest said, "They're empty in the middle. D'they just make them that way?" 

"No." Vash turned down the corners of his mouth. The gunman reached up and scratched at his chest. Wolfwood narrowed his eyes; there was a scar where he was scratching. "I think they cut out the middle pieces. And besides, they're not all like that." 

"Well what's the point in that? They just cut 'em out and what--toss 'em out in the trash?" The cigarette was very short now. Wolfwood ground it out, fishing in his pocket for a new one. 

"Would you like some more beer, sir?" Wolfwood looked up at the waitress. She was smiling politely, if a little strained. The priest glanced down at his worn, dusty suit. They both must look like hell. 

"Yeah, thanks sweetheart." The girl blushed and refilled the mug. A small cascade of white foam slipped over the edge, hugging the glass on its way down to the table. 

The waitress smiled prettily and left, and the priest turned back to his traveling partner. Blond eyebrows pulled together, and the Tongari was skirting the edge of a pout. Wolfwood chuckled, taking a sip of beer. Vash looked up. His eyes went flat again. 

"They don't," the gunman stated breezily. Wolfwood glanced at him, confused, and he continued. "They don't just throw them away. It isn't like that. They, um, they sell them separately. So the middle pieces get bought too." 

"Ah. Sure thing, Tongari." Wolfwood toyed absently with one of his cufflinks, watching as Vash chewed happily at another donut. The corners of his eyes crinkled. Silence reigned for several minutes. The cigarette burned down and was crushed. The mug of beer was emptied again and the priest stood, hefting his cross. Wolfwood tossed a few double dollars onto the table and turned to leave. 

Swallowing the last bite of that donut, Vash picked up the last one and followed Wolfwood to the door. He spoke, his eyes flat as a doll's again. "Doesn't matter anyway. Y'know, whether they're empty or not. They're sweet, and they fill people up." 

Wolfwood raised one eyebrow, reaching over and snagging the donut from Vash's fingers. He bit into the pastry, eyeing Vash's developing pout. He looked down at the jagged edge left by his teeth. Maybe it looked better that way. Complete. He handed the rest of the doughnut to Vash, glancing at him as he slipped his sunglasses on and stepped outside. "They're not so bad," he said softly. 

Vash's eyes were lustrous. 


End file.
